Warrior
by Clara Parlato
Summary: Lance ain't no hero. (Lance/Romelle)
1. Warrior

"It is good to see you have a warrior with you. Although is a bit sad to watch most of you treat him unfairly."

The team turned to look at Kolivan, seeing him staring at Lance with a fond look in his eyes. Pidge furred her brows, was he talking about Lance? It couldn't be, Lance was too much of a goofball. Allura glanced at Shiro, wondering when they had ever treated him unfairly. Hunk looked at Shiro and Keith—who were watching the galra leader—back and forth, not finding anything worrying except for the tiredness shared by the whole team. Coran seemed to be the only one to understand the leader of the Blade.

"Yes, he's quite the rarity, isn't he?" The old man agreed with a dad smile, locking his eyes on Lance.

The boy was playing around with the mice, trying to teach the smallest some tricks while the biggest took a nap on top of his head. The angry looking one was religiously trying to nip at Lance's fingers in a playful game of catch while the pink one was clinging to him. Kolivan did not hide the soft almost smile the scene brought him, nor did Coran hide the proud sigh of a satisfied father.

"Um… Can you explain what you mean?" Hunk asked timidly, not really understanding.

"Yeah, if anyone here is a warrior, it's either Shiro or Keith!"

"You're supposed to be the smart one, Green Paladin, and yet you disappoint." Pidge winced, not liking one bit being indirectly called dumb. "Keith sees only his objectives and what he must do to reach them. A fighter is what he is, someone who seeks victory."

Keith didn't knew how to react. Kolivan didn't make it sound like a bad thing, but it certainly had an undertone of resigned disapproval. He wasn't wrong, though, and Keith was aware it was one of the reasons it was so hard for him to be the leader his team needed.

"Shiro is a soldier," Coran informed, "Experienced in battle and made to win them. But a soldier only goes as far as their orders let them."

Shiro sighed resignedly. Of course he knew. He had been trained as a soldier from a very young age. He rarely broke the rules and when he did, it was always with a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He was trained to respond to authority and act accordingly with the orders given to him.

"You, Yellow Paladin, you're a pillar, you're the one who keeps people from crumbling completely. But pillars are made solely for that function; they're rarely able to step in the front of a battle."

Hunk agreed wholeheartedly. He was always ready to give people support, but he himself wouldn't step up and confront whatever was needed to be confronted unless extremely necessary. He preferred to stand back and make sure the ones fighting are still standing.

"Pidge, you're a researcher. You want to know why and how, ponder about what and when, and that prevents your mind from fully concentrating on anything else. A researcher seeks information."

Pidge couldn't deny Coran's words. She had long ago lost count of how many times she needed to put some effort on focusing on the mission because her curious mind wanted to understand something. Sometimes even Green chastised her, and the Lion looked for inquisitiveness in its pilots!

"Princess, as a royal, you are a leader. You seek for success with the less bad consequences possible so you can live to succeed another day. Extremely focused in your objective, to the point of sometimes being borderline irrational."

Allura held back the urge to sneer. She supposed he was right, she did act a bit too much upon her objectives sometimes, forgetting about the rest of the equation. She had a war to win; she had to succeed.

"Okay, big cat, what about Lance? What makes that idiot a warrior?"

"Pidge!"

"Oh, c'mon, Shiro! You think so too! Lance is—!"

"A warrior that is always attentively listening to his teammates."

That shut the girl up. She, together with the team, snapped her head towards the Red Paladin. He was still playing with the mice, but he was silent and his shoulders were stiff. Like he was waiting for a beating. The angry-looking one—his name was Plachu, Lance had told them in the past—was glaring at her. The biggest—Platt, Lance had informed—was staring at them with disappointment. The smallest—Chulatt, Lance had provided—was worriedly clutching his thumb in a half hug. The pink one—Chuchule, Lance had introduced—looked ready to cry.

Lance was listening, back turned to them. He tried not to show—and he was doing a marvelous job before Kolivan pointed it out. He was listening and reading himself for what was to come. As if he knew where it would go and how it would end.

Pidge opened her mouth to say something, but what would have come out was either a very late apology or another insult, and Kolivan wished to hear neither.

"A warrior is someone who carries all the others characteristics and more. Like fighters, they seek victory, but never for their own gain. Like soldiers, they protect a cause with their dying breath, but only ever follow their own rules. Like a pillar, he supports the ones that are in need, but does not hesitate to become a wall between them and the enemy. Like a researcher, they wonder about the past and the present, but so they can be ready when the battle finally comes. Like a leader, a warrior tries to be successful, but he knows his and his team's limitations."

They stared at Lance, the boy failing to look indifferent. His tries were already half-hearted, his chest stuffed and back straight. He kept stealing glance at the galra, and his eyes were so much full of happiness that they almost lost the smidge of sadness. He was happy with Kolivan's words. However, he was sad because… The leader of the Blade of Marmora wasn't the one Lance wanted the recognition from. Shiro was able to see it and would've said something, but the galra was not finished.

"A warrior is someone who will fight to protect what he believes needs to be protected with everything they are. Without hesitation, without thinking twice, without regretting once. Get up and stand straight, Red Paladin of Voltron, and let them see the eyes of a true warrior, someone who carries war in their mind and peace in their heart."

Lance twitched.

"Get up, and let them see you, warrior Lance."

The mice jumped on the floor, letting Lance stand up without worrying about them. The boy slowly got up, seemingly calculating every move, every breath. He slowly straightened his back, making himself look taller—no, letting them witness the full height of the barrier that protected them. When he was finally up—had his back always looked so large?—, he turned his body in their direction with the same calculating cautiousness. He was still in his armor, they all were, but his looked like fitted a lot better, like it was made for him—like he was made to wear an armor. They could feel the mood changing, Lance's presence enveloping them, denying them from taking their eyes away. Eyes closed, he let a shaky breath come out before opening them.

Bluest blue.

Burning their souls.

They could see it all. The determination, the perseverance, the sense of justice, the desire to protect, the courage to go forwards, the anger directed towards the threats, the cautiousness, the kindness, the intelligence, the never-ending resolve.

_Look at me,_ his eyes said,_ look at me._ _While I fight. While I protect. While I give everything I am for what I believe that needs to be protected._

_For what I am willing to die for._

_For what I am willing to live for._

_**Look at me.**_

"Look at him. Look at the warrior you neglected. He had such empty eyes when I came, but look how they burn now that someone gave him the chance to show himself." Kolivan bowed his head. "If you ever feel like this is not enough for you, warrior, I would be more than honored to give you a place in the Blade of Marmora."

"You don' t want me."

It was the first time they've heard Lance's voice… In a few hours, at least. It sounded rough and cold, had it always been able to sound like that? And had his eyes always been that searing shade of blue? And had that scar right above his left eye always been there? And what about the one right under his lips; was it there ever since the beginning?

"I do." Kolivan still kept his head down. "There's nothing sadder than a warrior with empty eyes, and that is what this team is turning you into. The Blade would be more than willing to bring back the universe they should hold."

"I…"

"If you still don't wish to come with us, then at least let us train you."

"Kolivan—."

"Pardon me, Princess, but he is right."

"Coran?!"

Coran stared at the team with the same tired resignation of a disappointed father. They were so worried with what their eyes showed them, they forgot about the one whose eyes rarely showed. Staring at Lance, he felt like looking at his King once more. The strongest warrior Coran had ever met before Lance. The boy was strong from growing in a harsh environment—one where he was shoved aside and constantly criticized—, it was time he learned how to grow in more fertile grounds—where he would be taught and praised like he deserved. As the parental figure that he took in Lance's life, Coran understood that the team was no longer helping his son go forward. They were now the problem. One that sending Lance away could resolve.

"What we have here is not just a skilled fighter, princess, but a skilled warrior with much potential. Like your father." At that, Allura gaped at the man. "Lance, my boy, it will be extremely beneficial for you to accept at least being trained by them. You can do like Keith and come back when we call."

Lance stared at each of his teammates. Pidge looked extremely confused. Hunk had turned into stone. Shiro was furrowing his brows—strangely, his eyes held acceptance. Keith was seething, but he did a good job at holding himself back. Allura was piercing him with her stare, probably trying to see what in the boy reminded Coran of King Alfor.

Deep breath.

"When we leave?"

Coran smiled. As much as he wanted to keep Lance there, he knew it wouldn't do any good. But the Blade—he hoped—would do what they never could.

"Today."

Fill the empty eyes of a warrior.

"I will pack my things."

Hopefully, Lance's eyes would never again be empty.


	2. Not The Ones

The castle was too silent without Lance, the team discovered. Too silent, too dark, too cold. Every time he left with the Blade, the Castle of Lion seemed to lose all its life. Moreover, so did the team. Pidge stayed hours in front of her computer, deep bags under her tired eyes. Hunk looked like the machines he created, mechanically cooking as if on autopilot. Shiro was restless, training from dawn to dusk non-stop. Allura had to make a herculean effort to leave her bed, looking less and less motivated each day. Coran was silent most of time, taking care of the team as Lance used to. Keith, when he wasn't in the Blade with Lance, had returned to that lone wolf state, actively avoiding the others.

Every time Lance returned, they all were there to greet him with relieved smiles on their faces, trying to hide how much his missing presence affected them. Because they finally understood that Voltron was not ready to exist without Lance. They finally understood they weren't ready to exist without Lance.

It was all futile, of course. He knew they were hiding things from him. He could even guess what they were hiding.

When he returned the first time, they could not look at him in the eye—except for Coran. The time away from him made them finally see the whole picture. How they treated him and how they should have treated him. How he gave himself to them and how he did everything with his whole being. How he was the wall protecting him them the pillar holding them, the light guiding them, the concrete gluing them. He was the soul of Voltron. He was the warrior of the team. And they treated him so badly. Only because he didn't have that _one thing_ that made him stand out.

Because they weren't able to see the _multiple_ things that made him stand out.

It took them a few days to look directly at him, and when they did, they could not stop. Lance _glowed_ with confidence and determination, a strong aura of power surrounding him. He was better at fighting, slaying the adversary with his bayard—he had unlocked four forms. He was better at strategizing, his plans rarely failed. He was better at taking care and keeping them together, the playful tenderness never gone from his eyes.

_His eyes._

Bluest blue.

They held universes inside them.

His smile was never so big, nor so shiny. His mood had improved tenfold. Lance looked full of hope and ready for whatever came his way. He was breathtaking. Otherworldly.

And it left a bitter taste on their mouths knowing they weren't the ones who caused that.

"You truly are a great warrior, my boy."

"Thanks, Coran."

"When will you come back to us?"

"I'll be here for the next mission, princess, no need to worry." He smiled, assuring, at her before staring at Keith, "You're coming this time, mullet?"

"In a tick."

Lance left, letting his team stare at his large back and strong muscles. He walked proudly. Like a Paladin. Like a King. Like a Warrior. Like the Warrior he was. Ready to fight with everything he was to protect what he believed needed to be protect.

It left a bitter taste on their mouths knowing they were not the ones who caused that.


	3. Here Goes The Warrior

"You know, from all the people I thought I would see here, you're the last one I expected, general."

"From all the people I thought I would see running away, you're the last one I expected, cadet."

Lance stared at the man that once made his life a living hell. It all came back rushing to him. Every scolding, every yell, every harsh word, every hurtful phrase. Surprisingly—or maybe not—, it didn't bring the same anger it would've a few months prior. Before, when he was finally accepting his fate was a paladin, he would've probably yelled and complained. He would've let his brain be consumed by the rage.

Not anymore.

Lance had changed.

All it took was an intergalactic war thousands of years old and the abandonment of his teammates.

And five magical lions.

Instead, Iverson's words were met with a tired amusement, maybe even a strange appreciation, as the Cuban's lips lifted in a slight smile. Iverson didn't reciprocate—was he even _able_ to smile?—but the amazed glint in his eyes did not pass unnoticed.

"I'm not running away. My family knows I'm going."

"Which one?"

"The one that matters." A pause where only his dry swallowing could be heard. "The only one I have."

"Your team will search for you."

"The war is over; they'll have enough time to find a replacement for me."

Iverson stared at the boy—_the_ _man_ in front of him. He was still so young, but his _eyes…_ He had the eyes of someone who had lived more than they wished. Tired and unimpressed, bluest blue hard as an iron wall. His posture was different; the laid-back curve of his spine only a farce, every muscle ready to grab the nearest weapon or to run to the nearest exit. His guard up, clearly paying attention to everything happening around them.

"I joined the Garrison because I wanted to know what I would find beyond the visible stars." Iverson could see the burning coldness of bluest blue returning. "What I have seen isn't even a third of what must be out there."

Ah, yes. There it was. The type of person Iverson's grandparents excitedly told him about when he was a child. Stories about brave men and women, people fighting not for what was _right_, but for what they believed they should fight for. For what they believed they should _live_ for. His grandparents had many names for those people. But the one that stuck with the family was…

"Warrior."

"What?"

"I do not want your forgiveness, so don't give it to me—"He cleared his throat hastily—"but I do consider you an exceptional person… The type I have only ever known through my grandparents' tales… A warrior."

"… I didn't knew Haggar made clones of Iverson."

"You have five seconds to disappear from my sight before I sound the alarms, cadet."

"Yes, sir!" Lance saluted mockingly, playfully imitating a nervous cadet scrambling to complete their superiors orders.

With a last look at his planet, at his home, Lance opened the ship Coran—Coran, Coran, the space dad, the wonderful man—provided him a few days prior, a sigh tasting like longing leaving his lips. He turned back to Iverson, telling him to give them his "goodbyes" and "see you later", choking on his words once he noticed the man's raised hand touching his frowned forehead. Iverson was saluting him.

"Lance." The general's voice came, low and full of something akin to stiff respect.

"It was a pleasure, general."

With a last salute towards the one that once made his life a living hell, Lance turned his back to his home, his planet. With a heart already full of longing, he turned his back to his family, his dear ones. With a mind full of sadness, he turned his back to his old team, to the people he learned to love, to the people he learned to forgive.

With a soul full of hope, the warrior turned to look at his future adventures.

"Universe, here I come."

Coran watched the ship take flight from a distance. Lance's mother, Elena, by his side. Exceptional woman, the altean could see why Lance would be too. With tears in his eyes, Coran whispered a prayer to his Goddess. He could hear Elena do the same, praying for her son to find what he was looking for, and to return always with a smile in his face. He smiled, of course. A woman with such brilliant smile—Lance really took after his mother—would not wish for anything more than the boy's happiness.

"And there he goes, my little warrior."


	4. Let Me Be Free With You

"You know, from all the people I expected to see visiting my family, you were not my first guess… Not that I'm complaining, you look great in that blue bikini."

Romelle laughed softly, closing her eyes and enjoying the gentle breeze the sea brought. She heard a satisfied sigh from besides her, knowing the person was looking at her with bluest blue eyes, warm and gentle.

"You know, I wanted to be a pirate when I was younger."

"Aren't pirates bad people?"

"I mean, without the stealing a killing part. I wanted their freedom."

The girl opened her eyes, taking in the beauty of Lance's home planet. She could understand why he loved the beach so much. The noise of the sea was deafening at first, but a few visits later, it sounded comforting, as if a constant humming in the background. The sand was… well… _Sand_. A whitish, yellowish beige. It was hard to describe, but not less beautiful to look at.

She had wanted to go see that beach ever since Lance told her about it, all the way back in the Red Lion, blue eyes filled with longing and smile void of sadness. He never looked so beautiful—for no one could deny the boy's attractiveness—before, even though back then she didn't knew him very well. She had wanted to see his piece of Heaven. Then, when they got on Earth, she met his family. Lovely, lovely family, a family that without hesitation welcomed her, during the war and after. Romelle finally understood then that Lance's Heaven wasn't only the beach, but the people connected to it.

Romelle found herself wanting to be part of that Heaven.

"Pirates are free to sail on the sea, only them and it. Free. Taking each day as it comes, without having to answer to no one. Finding new places and new people. One day is an amazing adventure; the next is a relaxing day of rest, just them and the world."

The alien stared at him, drinking the view of the dark skinned boy dressed in blue swimming shorts gazing lovingly at the ocean. The setting sun made him glow, but she couldn't tell if it was all the sun's job or part of it was natural of the boy. The breeze caressing brown hair. His eyes, pools of melted iron mixed with the blue ocean, shinning like two stars, searching for the adventures his thin lips liked to talk about.

"Why go to space, then?"

"Because I wanted freedom."

She didn't need any more words to understand. He wanted to be free, to live his life as he pleased, to live each day without worrying about the bigger picture or the greater good.

Warriors, the old Altean legends said, liked freedom. They liked to choose what they would fight for, what they would die and live for. They liked to live their lives as they chose to.

Warriors, the old Altean legends said, carried war in their minds and peace in their hearts.

And freedom in their souls.

"That's why you left?"

"Yes. I still fight for what I believe I should, I still protect what I believe I should, I still live for what I believe I should. But I want to see beyond the stars. I want to see what the Universe has to show me."

In that split second, Romelle made a decision she knew would forever change her mind.

"I will go with you."

Lance looked at her, intense, unwavering. She could see in his eyes everything his mouth wasn't sure how to say. The warnings. The hopes. The fears. The joyfulness. It would be a big change, the blue irises told her.

She would be leaving a lot behind.

She would be facing a lot.

"Would you like to come?"

Taking his hand on hers, seeing his smile grow, Romelle found out she didn't mind doing so by his side.

"More than anything."

She wanted to be free too.


	5. No Hero

"Hello! What can I get you today?"

The team looked very out of place. The galra waitress was smiling warmly, although they could see the amused glint that flashed in her eyes once she took the whole picture. The Paladins of Voltron sitting in the alien equivalent of a bar, all five fidgeting restlessly.

"Kalei!"

"Hello to you too, Holt."

Ah, yes, the relaxed from of Pidge's brother, Matt Holt was not helping the picture. Not when they were all uncomfortably sitting there and yet he looked right at home. Even though he explained in the way to the bar that it was a familiar place to him, one he and his friends had and habit of going every so often, it was still so weird. Specially considering how he disappeared nine months prior, leaving only a message telling his family he was going back to space with Romelle and Lance.

Talking about Lance.

"Whatever they're having, put on my tab."

"And when do you plan on finishing paying what is in your tab?"

"When I decide to not come here anymore, beautiful," Lance smirked, "Then I'll pay all my debts and never come back."

"I will pray for that day to come, then."

With a fond chuckle, the boy—the man put the bottle and the two glasses he was carrying on the table before sitting down and sending the waitress a last smile. Opening the bottle, he poured what was probably the equivalent of wine in the glasses, offering one to Matt and safely stashing the bottle in the ice bucket in the middle of the table.

"Well, aren't you kind?"

"You know me, Holt. Let the bad manners for the sheets."

Shiro choked on his own spit. Pidge's face was in between disbelief and disgust. The other three weren't much better, looking just as bewildered.

It had been years since they'd seen Lance. Three years, seven months, three weeks, two days and thirteen hours, if they were to be precise. A few weeks after the war, when they all celebrated like there was no tomorrow the fact that there was a tomorrow. He disappeared that night, leaving behind his armor, bayard and Lion. And team.

They tried to track him down; _oh did they try_. However, Lance was smart, and he knew them with the palm of his hand. He was able to avoid them every time, no matter how close they were to finding him. He was able to visit his family even if the team was in town, he found a way to free planets that were still under galra control without them finding him, and he managed to solve other planets problems without them knowing until the planet's inhabitants commented on the nice warrior that helped them, usually much later, enough so all information that could lead them to him was outdated.

Hunk had gone through a hard time then, being the one in the team that actually knew about Lance evasiveness, had seen it time and time again back at the Garrison. He blamed himself of being a bad friend, and, as much as they wanted to assure him the contrary, the team couldn't find it in themselves to lie to him. Besides, it wasn't as if they were any better, each and every one of them guilty of some parcel of the damage.

They wanted to feel angry, they truly did, but not even Keith and his hothead could be angry when Lance glowed so brightly. The years had been kind. Very kind. His hair was longer, held back in a low ponytail, and it had curled, probably not seeing a straightener in some time. His bangs framed his eyes—bluest blue, thankfully the same, only wiser. His smile was still pearly white and just as charming—the boyish grin made his thin lips curl beautifully, giving him an air of ethereal wonder. He had gotten taller—to Keith's displeasure, who was finally enjoying being taller—and his built was still lean, muscles defined under the half-open white button up. They could see some scars on his chest and abdomen, the lighter skin tracing stories they weren't sure they wanted to know.

From the brief moment before he sat down, they saw the brown pants and long brown—a darker brown—boots. They also were able to see the holster around his waist, probably holding a gun or two. Lance was a sharpshooter, after all.

"Why did you leave?"

"Order first, mullet, talk later." Lance didn't miss a beat, smiling suspiciously sweetly towards the waitress. "You know what I want, don't you, doll?"

"A punch to the face."

"Didn't I just say to leave the bad manners to the sheets?"

Kalei huffed playfully, rolling her eyes. Then she focused once more on the Defenders of the Universe. They hastily opened their menus on the "Human Food" category, not wanting to risk their tongues on other cuisines. Not that day, at least. Not if it could prevent them from spending some time with the ex-paladin. Ordering their food, Matt asking for the "Chef's surprise", the galra left, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Feeling risky, are we?"

"They're yet to poison me." Matt shrugged, unconcerned.

"Why did you leave?"

"Quiznack, samurai! Three years and your temper is the same, I don't know if I should be amazed or exasperated." Words said with gentle fondness, Lance threw his head back and laughed, Matt chuckling by his side. "I left because I couldn't stay."

"Why?"

"Because, Hunk, it wasn't my place, I don't belong in Voltron. I am no hero, I don't really care about saving the universe and—" He took a sip of his drink—"all that 'duty' speech. I fought the war because I wanted to protect people important to me. They're safe now, so I'll follow my dreams. I did join the Garrison for a reason, you know. I want to see what's beyond the stars."

"If that is the case, then why did you help so many planets?"

"I may not be a hero, princess—" She flinched a bit with the use of the title, and Lance graced her with a look of understanding and corrected himself—"Allura, but I'm not a bad guy. I won't stand there while people suffer if I can help in any way."

"We missed you."

The table suddenly got silent. It was surprising for Pidge to blurt out emotional words. They expected it from Hunk and even Keith, with his impulsiveness, but not the short Paladin. She didn't look like she cared, though, staring at her ex-teammate with what looked like a mix of longing and happiness. What did Adam call that feeling again? Saudade?

Lance's face softened. He extended his hand across the table in offering. She immediately did the same, her petit hand clutching his bigger one tightly.

"I missed you guys too."

Keith opened his mouth to say something more, but Kalei choose that moment to bring their food, with the help of another alien. The male was happy to flirt with Lance for a good five minutes before Kalei pulled him back to work. He left with a purple blushing face and a last wink. Lance had ordered garlic knots, and it was clear they wouldn't be able to have a conversation the moment the put the first one in his mouth and took a savoring bite.

A few minutes of them eating, Matt seizing the opportunity to update the team on their adventures. He told Voltron about the day he decided to join Lance and Romelle, about the crazy planets they had visited and the even crazier things they did while in said planet. He assured Allura that Romelle was fine; she was just back at the hotel, resting after a day of shopping. Lance's birthday would be in three days and they had been preparing themselves for some serious celebration. He was in the middle of a tale where an alien witch unintentionally casted a love spell on Lance that made almost half of the town fall in love with him, the witch included, when Lance interrupted with a yell towards the kitchen.

"Ulviel, what is this?! Who are you trying to impress? I asked for some grub, not a five star meal!"

The answer came in an unknown language for the team, and even Matt looked a bit confused, but Lance seemed to understand the weird sound just fine, for he once again threw his head back and laughed until he had no more air in his lungs. Wiping away his tears, he quickly finished his food, filling his glass once more. He looked so comfortable, so satisfied.

"Hey, Kalei, babe!"

"What now?"

"How about dessert? I'm in the mood for some half-galra." He winked, oblivious to the sudden blush that spread on Keith's cheeks. The waitress turned to him with that same amused glint from before, eyes changing from the harsh glare the costumer she was serving provoked to a playful gaze.

"Sadly, I'm not in the mood for stupid humans."

Lance then clasped Matt's shoulder.

"I'm sorry man, today is not your day. You mind waiting for me back in the hotel?"

"Hey!"

Lance and Kalei laughed, the alien's mood clearly improved. With a shake of her head, she left to go tell the cook the rude customer's order. Matt and Lance spent a few ticks bickering, the others watching in silence. Then a familiar voice came.

"I heard you're in the mood for some dessert? I can't provide you a half-galra, will a full altean do?"

"Romelle!"

Romelle also seemed to glow, long hair down and long blue dress hugging her from comfortably. Her eyes were bright and the smile was gentle. She looked lively, ready to take anything, but there was still an undeniable pinch of tiredness in her. A pinch shared by the men that happily greeted her. Lance patted his leg and she didn't waste time on sitting on his lap.

"How was your nap, gorgeous?"

"It would've been better if you were there."

"I'll cuddle with you for as long as you want tomorrow, then."

"You better."

"Did you eat? Want me to order something for you? Ulviel's been suspiciously nice today, giving me garlic knots that you would find in an expensive restaurant."

The altean laughed, peppering his cheek, jaw and chin with quick kisses.

"Ah, yes, did I tell you guys my adventures as the third wheel?"

"Matt, you knew that would inevitably happen."

It was Romelle's turn to bicker with Matt, the man dramatically leaning back on his chair, hand on his chest ad if his heart was hurting badly. Lance watched amusedly, on hand still holding the half-full glass, the other slowly caressing Romelle's waist.

It was then that the team understood why he left.

Lance was different from them. Lance was aware of himself. He was no hero; he did not intend to give his life for the greater good. He was a warrior; he fought for what he believed he needed to fight. He fought to protect what he saw as important.

Kolivan had warned them about that. Coran had too. Both told the team that it would inevitably happen if they tried to keep their heroes roles. A warrior will stay for whatever time they are necessary, but the moment they have nothing more to do and nothing more to gain, they will leave. Maybe not permanently, one of the warriors' traits is a strong loyalty, but even if they do come back, if nothing changed, if they are not needed, then what reason do they have to stay?

None.

Lance, with the team, wasn't gaining anything anymore. Moreover, it had been that way for a long time. Enough time for Kolivan to notice the empty eyes and do something about it. The Blade was able to provide Lance with more than Voltron could, and when the Blade didn't have anything more to give, he left them too.

Except Lance didn't ran away from the Blade as he did with Voltron.

"Why did you avoid us, Lance?" Surprisingly, the question came from Shiro. Romelle, who had been readying herself to greet the group of people she hadn't seen in two years and a half, closed her mouth, teeth clenched, and the leader of Voltron sent her an apologizing glance before focusing on his old friend.

"Because I'm a loyal idiot. I would've gone back to you, but I was not ready. It would only prevent me from growing. I don't belong in your Voltron, because it's made of heroes."

Lance had nothing to gain joining Voltron the way it was.

"I am no hero."

Voltron had everything to lose by not having Lance with them.


End file.
